A Promise at Sea
by Candied Literature
Summary: It was a beautiful day to go to the beach. [based of tumblr user iraya's comic; FACE FAMILY]


**Hello there! While I am not new to fanfiction, this is my first time ever writing one and actually publishing it. ****Hopefully I wrote this well enough! ****This fic is based off one of the hetalia comics of tumblr user: iraya. (you guys should definitely check their blog out!) Please read and review; any comments, be it praises or criticism, will help me with my writing. Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia **

* * *

It was a sunny summer morning. Birds chirped, and friendly neighbors groggily got up for work. It was that type of morning where you knew that all was well in the world the moment you woke up. Rays of sunshine made their way through the windows of every house and eventually to one of two brothers, where one rambunctious boy, already bright awake, snuck up to his sibling's bed.

"Mattie! Hey Mattie! Wake up! We're going to the beach today, so wake! Up!"

Alfred shook Matthew's shoulder, practically jumping on the boy's bed from excitement. Once he confirmed that his twin was awake, he hopped off his brother's bed and immediately began digging through his dresser, determined to find the brand new swimming trunks he had received for his tenth birthday the week before.

Rubbing his eyes, Matthew yawned, "I know, Al. I know. But you should calm down; Dad might change his mind if he gets angry." However, despite his statement, it was quite apparent that the boy was excited as well. He gave his stuffed polar bear one last hug before getting out of bed.

"Move over Al. I need to look for my trunks too!"

Once the boys had changed from their pajamas to swim trunks and t-shirts, they eagerly headed downstairs. However, once they reached the door of their bedroom, Alfred grabbed Matthew's wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Confused, Matthew faced his brother. "What's wrong, Al?"

Smiling, Alfred brought his hands in front of himself, signaling his brother to wait. He scurried to both of the brothers' beds, grabbing something from the bookshelf of each bed.

"Mattie gimme your hand."

The boy obliged, realizing that Alfred had given him a red-beaded bracelet with a maple leaf charm.

"This is the bracelet you gave me for my birthday. Why are you giving it to me now?"

"I'm wearing the one you gave me too!" Alfred chirped. He raised his arm to show a similar bracelet, differing only in its blue color and rocketship charm. He gave a large grin, his eyes beaming in glee. "I thought that since today is a special day, we should both wear our special bracelets!"

"Okay. But, won't we lose them in the water? Or what if they break?"

"Come on Mattie, they're special. We made them for each other. That means they won't break! They'll be perfectly fine! Now come on! I hear Dad and Papa in the kitchen! I'll race ya!"

Alfred grabbed his brother's hand once again, practically dragging him out of the room and to the stairs.

Downstairs, the morning news played on the radio, giving the weather and traffic information. In the kitchen, Francis and Arthur Bonnefoy-Kirkland performed their daily breakfast routines. As they worked, various dishes were laid out neatly upon the kitchen table and counters. While humming a happy tune, Francis retrieved the kettle from a drying rack before walking to the pantry for flour and other various ingredients.

"Do you want me to get the water ready for tea, Arthur?"

"Mmm, yes please. By the way, Francis, would you pass me the jam? I need to make toast for the boys."

The other man handed the jar to his husband, but right before Arthur could take it out of his hands, Francis pulled it back with a smirk.

"You can only get this if I get something back, mon cher."

"Really Francis?", the Englishman groaned. "I don't have time for this. Knowing them, Alfred and Matthew will probably be here anytime soon, and they will be expecting their toast."

"Ah yes, but they are not down here now are they?", the frenchman chuckled, still keeping the jar of jam away from arms reach of his husband.

"You know what, sometimes I don't know how I deal with you", Arthur sighed. Frowning, he turned his back on Francis, rubbing his temples. However, once he heard the frenchman lower his arm and give a disappointed grumble, Arthur quickly spun around. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck, giving him a kiss. Taken by surprise, Francis fumbled with his hands as he attempted to place the jam on the counter behind him. Seeing the opening left by his husband, Arthur's hand snaked around the man's waist and grabbed the jar. He then turned back to the slices of bread, leaving Francis breathless, all with a playful smile on his face.

After a few seconds of realizing of what had exactly happened, Francis raised his head high and brought his hand to his forehead. "Arthur, that was not very nice. How dare you take advantage of moi, all in order to get sugary preserved fruit. Oh, the horribleness of it all!" he exclaimed dramatically.

"But it worked, didn't it?"

Right before Francis could say anything else, two pairs of small feet came stomping down the stairs, followed by childish laughter.

"I beat you Mattie! I win!"

"Nuh-uh! You only won because you cheated, Al! You started before me!"

"No, it's just because the hero is just faster than you, and you don't want to admit it! Plus, it doesn't matter anymore because we're already here!"

Arthur turned to face his sons. "Good morning, boys. I see that you are already all dressed."

"'Morning Dad! 'Morning Papa! Yup, Mattie and I are both ready to go to the beach! Since we are already ready, we can go right now!" Alfred proudly explained.

Francis laughed, "Good job mon fils! But we cannot go just yet. We have not even had breakfast. Come, sit down at the table. I'm making pancakes and eggs."

"My favorite!" Matthew giggled.

The family ate their breakfast together, the kitchen warmly filled with the euphony of laughter and morning talk.

* * *

Once they arrived at the beach, the Bonnefoy-Kirkland family set out their mission of finding the right spot to settle down on. As they walked about, Alfred excitingly took in his surroundings.

The hot sun shone brightly through the cloudless, blue sky, and the sounds of splashing waves and screeching seagulls filled the air, along with the chatter and shouts from various other families and couples, all there to escape the summer heat. Alfred stopped walking. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. He took in a slow, deep breath. The scents of musty salty water and hot air filled his lungs as he wiggled his toes in the warm sand. He swore he could feel some mist gently brush against his face; the coolness of it feeling wonderful compared to the hot sun shining upon him. It was as if he stepped into another world… it was perfect.

"Alfred, lad, what are you doing back there? You know, the ocean is not going anywhere."

"Ah! Sorry Dad! Coming!"

After about fifteen or so minutes and many indecisive suggestions later, the family finally found a suitable spot- it was not too far from the water nor was it too close to the horde of people. Arthur and the boys laid their belongings onto colorful beach towels, while Francis set up the two large umbrellas. When finished, the fathers sat down on the towels while the Matthew and Alfred pointed out everything they saw.

"There's another lady with a book. Why do they bring boring books to the _beach_?"

"Well, I see a dog that sorta looks like Kumajiro."

"Hmmm, you're right… Hey Mattie! Look at that guy. No, not there. Look riiiiiight there, near the lady with the weird purple hat. See that sandcastle he's making? IT'S HUGE!"

"I wanna make sandcastles, Al! Let's go make sandcastles! Let's go! Let's go!"

The two were just about run out to the bare areas of sand when a familiar stern voice stopped them.

"Just you two wait! You boys have not put on your sunscreen yet. Do you want to return home looking like sunburnt lobsters? Now, don't give me that look. C'mere, so I can put it on you."

Francis chuckled at Arthur's tendency to be such a mother hen to his family. "Oui, mes fils. Écoutez votre père. Vous serez en mesure de jouer plus tard." [Yes, my sons. Listen to your father. You will be able to play later.]

The two young blonds were then smothered in the icky white cream. No matter how many times sunblock was put on them, the boys could never get used the unbearable feel of the cold, thick cream on their skin. To add to their misfortune, Arthur had made sure that they were absolutely covered from head to toe. Thus, when the moment the "necessary evil" was finished, they bolted away.

While he watched his sons play in the sand, Francis sat on a towel and stretched his legs out. He lay his back, arms behind his head, and sighed. Curious at the lack of noise from his husband, he looked to his left to take a peek at Arthur, who busily applying sunblock on himself.

'Arthur, I think it is you who should be worrying about turning into a sunburnt lobster', he thought. He smiled at the thought of a sunburned Arthur and decided to sit back up. He put a hat on Arthur's head before giving him a kiss on the nose. The frenchman once again kept watch on his sons.

About an hour and a half had past since Alfred and Matthew had begun building sandcastles. Arthur had tried reading a magazine, but found that he just could not. Every time he looked up, he saw women staring wantingly at his husband. He did not want to sound like some jealous schoolgirl, but their actions were beginning to get on his nerves. He looked at Francis, who was currently playing with the boys and was completely oblivious to the situation. Arthur harrumphed, sending glares to passerby men and women who dared to leer at his husband.

Francis walked back with Alfred and Matthew, hand in hand, a big smile on all of their faces. One look at Arthur, and he knew that something was upsetting him. "Matthieu, you know where the sandwiches are, oui? They are in the cooler, along with the juice boxes. Why don't you and Alfred go have lunch?"

"Oui, Papa. Come on, Al! Which sandwich do you want?"

"The biggest one!"

As the twins proceeded to eat their food, Francis sat next to Arthur. "So… what made you upset?"

Arthur lowered his head; he made a small grumble so quiet that only Francis could hear: "I am not angry."

"Do not try to lie, mon cher. I can tell when you are."

Arthur sighed, "Okay, fine. I may be a tad upset. It's just that there are those scandalous, barely-wearing-anything women ogling you, and that ruffles my feathers. Look, there are some looking at you right now! Its because you are too attractive, and-and when you're out there playing in the sand with the boys, it looks like you're some model...or something. Goddammit, Francis, stop being so attractive."

"Hon hon hon, so you admit that I AM attractive, oui? Well, those women are wrong in their tastes. I do not compare to you and your huge beautiful eyebrows. Let's just show them how much of a lucky man I am to be taken by someone as wonderful as you~"

"And by wha-"

The Englishman could then say nothing more for his spouse silenced him with a deep kiss. When the kiss ended, they touched their foreheads together.

"I hate it when you do that, you idiot."

"But they are not looking now, hmm?"

The two men grinned at one another, perfectly happy with the world.

"Ewwwwww, kisses.", the twins simultaneously said, breaking the short period of bliss.

"Ew, huh?" Arthur pondered. "Well, would it still be 'ew' if we were to give YOU kisses?"

With that, Matthew was captured by Arthur, and Alfred by Francis. They were attacked by small kisses on their cheeks and tickles on their sides. The squealing boys struggled to escape the seemingly neverending attack, laughter bubbling from their bellies.

After a few moments given for everyone to catch their breath and suppress anymore giggles, Matthew asked, "Dad, Papa? Can Alfred and I go play in the water now?"

"YEAH, YEAH, can we?!" Alfred beamed.

"Alright, boys. Don't go too far. Be sure to be careful, alright? "

"We will Dad!" the boys cheered before running out to the ocean.

In the cool water of the ocean, the twins splashed around, throwing a small, red ball back and forth to each other.

"Hey, Mattie, isn't today great?"

"Haha, yeah! It's really fun!"

"Yup! Oh, hey! Let me show you this cool trick I saw on TV. Get ready for a big throw!"

And with that, Alfred crouched, arms above his head, and jumped into the air, throwing the ball to his brother with all his might, all the while making action sound effects. The ball went well over Matthew's head and landed on the water about six feet behind the boy. There, the lonely red dot floated on the water's surface, almost tauntingly.

"Oh! That was a good one! Um, don't worry Al, I got it!"

"Alright! I'll be right here then."

Matthew carefully waded through the water, hands above the water to balance himself. Unfortunately, after a few steps in, the boy suddenly slipped and fell face forward into the water. He yelped, splashing about in surprise.

"YOU OKAY MATTHEW?", Alfred shouted in concern, a flash of worry crossing his face.

"Y-yeah, I'm ok. I just slipped on something in the water. I think it might've been a rock or a glass bottle or something," Matthew responded.

A look of relief came across Alfred, "I can go get the ball you know. As the hero, it's my responsibility."

"No! It's okay. I can get it."

"O-ok, Mattie. But remember, since I'm the hero, I'll _always_ be right there, right behind you to help you if you get into trouble! For real! That's a promise."

Matthew did not say anything, as a newfound determination surged through him. He got back up, making sure to focus where his feet stepped on underwater. Whenever he looked back up at the ball, however, it seemed to be floating farther away from him. He had to wade farther into the ocean until his toes couldn't touch the sandy bottom any longer. After a few minutes, he had to dog-paddle his way through the seawater, his golden, wavy hair floating on the water surface. As the boy swam further and further, he heard a small voice in the back of his head, '_You should go back. It's getting away. It isn't worth it'._ But the ball was just an arms distance away and Matthew was determined to retrieve it. He wasn't going to return empty handed! Just when he was finally about to grab the inflated toy, he heard a worried shout from near by… maybe, even from right behind him? Before he could turn to the familiarly loud voice, a large rushing wave came over the poor boy, pushing him down.

Underwater, all sounds went silent to Matthew as he tried to piece two and two together- the silence was then followed by a rush of panic. The ocean seemed to grab at him, hold him, pulling him down farther underwater. But unbeknown to Poseidon, Matthew took plenty of swimming classes, and was a fairly strong swimmer for his age. He was not going to sleep with the fishes today.

The shock of being pushed under had left Matthew with a small amount of air in his lungs; they began to burn as he swam up. '_SWIM! You can do it, Matt. Swim up! You're almost there! GO!'_, he encouraged himself. His arms and legs moved in union, working together to reach the air.

Although he was not pushed too far underwater, it did take some effort to climb back to the surface. Once he made it, the blond was quite surprised to find the source of all this trouble-the red ball-bumping right into his face. Panting, he thanked the heavens for letting him live another day. He coughed out some water and nudged the toy in front himself in order to efficiently bring it back with him. With a grin of accomplishment, Matthew returned to shore, where he and his brother originally began.

"I GOT IT ALFRED! HAHA I GOT THE BALL BACK!", he whooped.

His cheerful laughter slowed down. He did a 180, looking left and right.

It was then that he realized that Alfred was, in fact, not there.

Matthew stood in the water for a bit, rubbing some sand off his arm. His hand came across his wrist, where his red bracelet remained. The ten-year old played with the maple leaf charm for a few minutes, the memory of Alfred giving it to him for his birthday coming back to him. A soft ocean breeze brushed along his face, blowing some of his drying locks of hair out his face. He bit his lower lip, a lonesome feeling overcoming him.

"Al, hey Al! Where are you? This isn't funny!"

...No response...

He looked around again, trying to spot a familiar blond head, but he had no such luck.

"Maybe, he went back to Dad and Papa? Maybe because I took too long?... He s-should be sitting with them, waiting for me to come back," Matthew attempted to reassure himself.

The boy took one more peek behind his shoulder, just in case if Alfred was hiding behind his back, but saw no one, no one but the ocean waving back.

Matthew slowly headed for his parents, stiffly taking step after step. He was hoping, _praying_, that Alfred was with their fathers. That Alfred was just eating sandwiches or playing in the sand or even sleeping under the sun and was waiting for him so they could all go home and, once there, Al would laugh at how easily Matthew can get worried and panic and they would get together and watch movies and all of this would've been just a bad dream. But, when he neared Arthur and Francis, who were packing some items away, he did not see his brother.

No… Al… Where are you, Al? WHY ARE YOU NOT HERE?'

"PAPA! DAD!", Matthew cried. He broke into a run, ignoring the danger of any possible sharp shells or glass on the sand. Tears formed in his eyes and his heart thumped a million miles a minute. A lump formed in his small throat.

"Mattieu!... Quel est le problème?", Francis asked, his face etched in slight worry over his son's unusually panicked demeanor.

"I-I- the ocean… we were just playing! The ball and there was a big wave and-and A-A-Alfred!"

"Matthew, calm down." Arthur crouched so he was eye level with the quivering boy. "Shhh, it's alright. Now, what's wrong?"

Francis, though utterly concerned about Matthew, noticed the absence of his second son. "Mattieu… where's Alfred?"

The poor boy couldn't fully calm down, but he tried his best to explain everything, from the ball floating away to the large wave to his realization of the disappearance of his brother. All the while, Arthur's and Francis' faces paled as Matthew told them the incident.

"Francis, stay with Matthew. I'll go look for Alfred," Arthur demanded. He tried to remain calm, but panic and adrenaline flooded his body.

"Oui." Francis hugged Matthew, rubbing small circles against the twin's back. He silently prayed, ' _Dieu, s'il vous plaît laissez Alfred être bien. S'il vous plaît laissez-le être sûr.' [God, please let Alfred be alright. Please let him be safe.]_

As Arthur ran into the water, the worst of the worst came into his mind. '_What if a kidnapper came by? No, Alfred would have made fuss. But from what Matthew said… _His heart fell into his stomach. '_That only leaves the option-that… he dro-... oh, god no...'_

"ALFRED! ALFRED! WHERE ARE YOU? ALFRED!"

Arthur searched and searched for what seemed like days.

Alfred Bonnefoy-Kirkland was never seen or heard of again.

* * *

It was almost dusk.

Arthur sobbed in Francis' arms, while Francis himself did his best to remain strong for his remaining family members. The lifeguards and emergency personnel did their utmost to find the boy. It was heartbreaking when they admitted that they could not yet find the _body_.

Matthew had pulled away from his sobbing fathers, away from the apologizing lifeguards. Exhausted, mentally and physically, the ten-year-old stood by the shore and watched the movements of the water. The waves of the sea had calmed down ever since _it_ happened.

"I'm sorry, Al. I shouldn't have gotten the ball. I should've stayed with you. I'm… r-really sorry.", he whispered. There was a certain salty wetness around his cheeks, although he had not been in the ocean water for long period of time.

Matthew was about to make his way to back to his family, the family now and forever only consisting of three members, when he suddenly stepped on something. This something did not get crushed under the boy's weight nor was it sharp, so it was not broken glass or the like. It felt bumpy, hard, cold. Matthew lifted his foot to see the mysterious object underneath. The washed up object below caused a large lump to form in Matthew's throat. Large tears began streaming down his heated face.

It was Al's bracelet.

Alfred was right, their bracelets were special; they didn't break and they didn't get lost in the ocean. After all, Matthew still had his, and Alfred's lay alone, but fully intact, on the sand.

The ocean gently waved, and the setting sun set an array of brilliant purples and pinks in the sky.

It was a beautiful day to go to the beach.


End file.
